2000
by odieotie
Summary: Rory Williams. The boy who waited. Series of one-shots about the Last Centurion and his two thousand years waiting. Plus some special guest appearances! Now with a sequel! Check out "Together, or Not at All"
1. Counting

**Author's Note: I don't own Doctor Who, I can't promise perfect grammar, yada yada yada...**

**I really hope you enjoy this! I've been really excited about this idea! Rory is often under-appreciated and I think he deserves some credit. As in a lot of credit. I'm hoping to update on a semi-regular basis. My main focus is on _Melody's Dream_ right now, but I also want to add to this.**

**Please feel free to review if you have any comments :)**

**Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!**

Rory stared down at his countless tally marks on his torn sheet of paper. He didn't need to count them in order to know how many days it had been since the Pandorica was sealed. The number seared into his brain was pushed up by one at every sunrise. The ever changing number would never leave him, that he was sure of. The series of little dashes on the paper was just one more way to pass the time. So much time. Whenever he started to lose it, whenever he started doubting himself, he would count the little ticks, one by one. One day for each mark.

"Look," he whispered hoarsely, for he found he hadn't used his plastic vocal chords in quite some time. He wondered if it was possible for dust to settle there. He cleared his throat and started again.

"Look, Amy," he repeated, more strength in his voice this time. "One hundred years. Would you believe that?" he leaned back, letting his helmet touch the cold surface of the Pandorica. "We've been here for one hundred years."

Tears brimmed in Rory's eyes. One hundred years. One hundred years guarding the love of his life. One hundred years without seeing her face. One hundred years knowing she was still mostly dead. One hundred years of hearing the shot that had come out of his wretched hand.

One hundred years.

"You know, I used to not know why I kept track of how much time it's been," he commented, a tear rolling down his cheek. "What's the point of counting the years if every second not spent with you is an eternity, you know?" he asked. "But now I know. It's not counting the eternities I've sat through waiting for you," he explained, hand gently rubbing the ledge of the box he had made his home.

"It's a count down. Every tally mark is one less eternity until I see your beautiful face again. So today is a happy day." He closed his eyes. "One hundred years down, only nineteen hundred to go."


	2. The Stars

**Author's Note: Alright, here's the second chapter! I hope you enjoy it!**

**I don't own Doctor Who…yet ;)**

**Also, I'm planning on a couple of guest stars to show up in the next few chapters. A lot will be just Rory angsting it out by himself, but some special people are very curious about this Pandorica.**

**Feel free to leave reviews/comments!**

**Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!**

Rory stared up at the night sky. Another day done, another sunset to witness alone. Rory let out a great sigh as he looked up at the moon. It was full tonight. If he looked closely he could just make out the Man in the Moon. When they were little, Amy had always said he was one of Raggedy Doctor's best friends. They would eat biscuits and drink tea, surrounded by the majestic Cheese Palace, which the Man in the Moon resided in. On highly special occasions, they would eat the delicacy of fish fingers and custard.

Rory started to laugh at the memory of Amy's face when she had first tried the mixture, but the laugh soon caught in his throat. For what was the point of laughing if there was no one to share it with?

"I miss the stars, Amy," he whispered, closing his eyes. "Every night I expect them to start twinkling in the sky, and every night they never show up. They remind me of you. Of us. The adventures we had and the adventures we were going to have. _Will_ have," he corrected himself, promising the box the only thing he knew would comfort the girl inside.

"One day you're going to get out, and then I swear to God we are going to get the stars back. And when they return, I'll take you to see them, TARDIS or no TARDIS. And when we find your favorite star, we'll name it Amelia. Because every time I see the stars, I see that wonderful twinkle in your eyes. That gorgeous wink of light that's always been there."

Rory's mind unexpectedly goes to the one night it was absent. He relives the feeling of his fingers moving aside to reveal a gun. His pleading for her to leave. The shot. The light had left her eyes that day. The light had left her eyes just as the stars left. And now he was all alone. No stars, no Amy.

"Just wait, one day the stars will come back."


	3. Charcoal

**Author's Note: Special Guest Appearance numero uno! It's a little long, sorry about that.**

**Just so you know, these stories aren't necessarily going in order.**

**I don't own Doctor Who unfortunately **

**Hop you enjoy it, feel free to leave reviews if you want!**

**Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!**

After some time, Rory's Centurion outfit became obsolete. He always managed to keep up with the current fashions, but kept his Centurion armor near at all times. It made him feel like a superhero, a precious suit hidden away for moments when Amy needed him.

Museums eventually decided they had a right to the Pandorica, as if they could ever _own_ it. Still, when the Pandorica was transported to a new museum, Rory would leave things be for a couple of days until the hype about the new arrival calmed a bit. Then, on the fifth or sixth night, right before closing, Rory would don his Centurion armor and pay a little visit to the new museum's curator. He would explain his task, that he was the guardian of the Pandorica, and that no one was to try and open it, not that they could if they wanted to. He would politely raise his sword and suggest he be given complete access to the large box, and preferably a room in the museum to call his own. He would point out the fact that he was the most trusted guard the museum could have, and hint that if the museum would ever need it, the Last Centurion could be spotted in their hallways, no doubt boosting the amount of visitors.

Needless to say, by the seventh day Rory was always comfortably situated in the heart of whichever museum had made the most recent purchase, able to visit Amy at any time he wished. After he and the Pandorica had been circulating the museums for some time, he would arrive at a new museum with a room already arranged for him, so much his fame had grown in the circle of curators. So, he found himself living quite an interesting life, roaming the halls and observing different historical artifacts during the day, and spending his nights with his precious box. He didn't like the idea of leaving the box alone during the day, but he knew that he would become a suspicious character, standing in the same room day in and day out, so he found ways to distract himself.

He was content. Not happy, for he could never truly be happy without Amy, but it beat his first years, when he was so lonely he was sure a black hole had replaced his plastic heart.

On one day in 1890, however, he felt he could not leave his beloved's side. He still had not explored every nook and cranny of their fairly new location, but he felt something was different today. Today, he would stay with Amy.

Most of the visitors were very stereotypical. They would walk into the room, awe on their faces, but soon would lose interest and wander off to read about the Last Centurion or Stonehenge. One man, however, would not budge from where he was standing. An hour passed, then two, yet the man stayed in the same spot. He would glance up, study the Pandorica, and then look down. The process made Rory a little worried.

Rory slowly worked his way through the crowd until he was standing next to the strange man with strawberry blonde hair. Both kept their eyes fixed on the box in front of them.

"What do you think about it? The Pandorica?" Rory asked, gaze never wavering from the most important thing in his life.

"I don't know," the man replied, voice barely above a whisper. "But I feel sad. So sad." And truly, the man's eyes were full of a sorrow Rory had only seen in his own reflection since the day the Pandorica closed.

"You're crying," Rory remarked, turning to face the man.

"Yes, I suppose I am," he replied, absentmindedly touching his cheek, a piece of charcoal in his hand. It was then that Rory noticed why the man had been standing by the box for so long.

The man held a sketch of the Pandorica in his hand, so full of detail and breathtaking that Rory felt his eyes bug out a bit. As he looked closer however, he realized something was there that shouldn't have been.

"Amy, that's Amy, what is she doing in your drawing?" he asked, suddenly frantic. He tore the sketch from the man's hands and brought it closer to his face, studying it. The circles and designs of the Pandorica were different in the drawing, and instead formed the shape of Amy's face on the canvas. Granted, it was a little distorted with the swirls and curves, but it was definitely the face of the woman he loved.

"I- I don't know," the man whispered, sadness refusing to leave his eyes. "I've only seen her in my dreams. You know this girl?" Rory nodded, stroking the canvas as if he could touch her real skin. A fat tear landed on the edge, threatening to destroy the masterpiece.

"Keep it," the man whispered, curling his hands around Rory's so they firmly gripped the edges. "I can see she was important to you."

"_Is_ important," Rory corrected, looking up at the man. "I don't know what to say. Thank you!" He smiled down at his first picture of Amy.

"My pleasure," the man replied, gathering his things. He started towards the door when Rory called out to him.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe I caught your name, kind sir."

"Vincent," he replied, his eyes of sadness lighting up for a split second before turning dark again. "Vincent Van Gogh."


	4. Candles

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay, there was a lot of stuff going on this weekend.**

**I hope you enjoy this one!**

**No rights for Doctor Who **

**Reviews are always welcome, forgive any issues as this is a rough draft**

**Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!**

Rory only left the museums on very rare occasions. He didn't like the idea of having concrete walls and security separating himself from the Pandorica. Still, sometimes new clothes needed to be bought or people needed to be investigated.

On this particular evening, Rory made sure he was quick getting in and out. He set a brisk pace as he walked down the streets, glancing through windows until he found the stores he was searching for. He made haste in selecting his items and paying with his money he saved from when the curators decided they would hire him to work at the museum. It often wasn't much, but he didn't have to pay rent or buy groceries so he was able to make it last. The most difficult thing was moving, as he often had to find a way to switch currency.

Still, he soon was returning to the museum, his purchases in hand. He made it back before lock-up, and went straight to the Pandorica's exhibit. Now was time to set up.

After sweeping he went about laying his newly acquired items out. Tonight was going to be perfect for her.

Half an hour later, everything was done. The clock in the hallway struck twelve. It was a new day. It was time to repeat his yearly tradition. Lighting ten candles on top a piece of chocolate cake, he began to sing in a somber voice.

"_Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Amy-_" his voice cracked and he found himself unable to bear his situation. Amy wouldn't be able to blow out the candles, licking the frosting off as she removed them from the slice of cake. She wouldn't be able to taste the chocolate, one of her favorite flavors. She wouldn't laugh at his out-of-tune singing. He wouldn't place the newly bought necklace around her pale neck, lifting her fiery red hair up out of the way, letting the smell of her shampoo overwhelm him.

In a fit of rage, he blew out the candles and threw the cake on the ground. He was racked with sobs now, and he leaned against the Pandorica, slowly letting his back edge down the cold, steely prison. He covered his face with his hands and wept. His body shook with the pain of his reality, and it took him several minutes to regain enough control to stop the hiccup sounds.

"We were supposed to grow old together," he whispered, silent tears still streaming down his plastic face.

"We were supposed to grow old together, but neither of us is getting older. I'm plastic for crying out loud and you're suspended between a state of life and death. We're stuck in limbo, never aging a day, but ripping through the years as if they were wrapping on the most coveted Christmas present." He heaved a great sigh, shuddering as he exhaled.

"Sometimes I want to die Amy. I want this body to age and wither and turn into dust. Is this how the Doctor feels? Stuck forever? It's horrible. Whoever wanted to find the Fountain of Youth was an idiot." He laughed at himself, so old yet with a body that refused to change. He turned to face his fiance's prison and pressed a light kiss against its wall. Usually their private celebration was just that, a celebration. Now it was just a taunt of their poisoned immortality.

"Happy Birthday, Amy."


	5. Ginger

**Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, I "temporarily misplaced" my notebook where I write my fanfics at school (I mean…I only work on school work when I'm at school…)**

**Special Guest number two!**

**I hope you enjoy **** Feel free to leave a review!**

**Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!**

Rory had started checking on the Pandorica every hour or two. Amy's birthdate was steadfast approaching and he wanted to make sure the paradox wouldn't affect the box in some way. At least that's what he told himself. Deep down inside he knew it was because he had started to become impatient. He had been waiting well over 1,000 years now, and he knew that Amy's great escape would soon be possible at any time. Her DNA would be out in the world, and as soon as the Pandorica felt it his wait would be over. So he found himself peeking in the exhibit more frequently than usual, his heart always skipping a beat as he walked around the corner to see the big metal prison. Soon, it would be open.

Rory was making his fifth round of the day when he saw a flash of red hair. _It can't be her_, Rory told himself. Still, he found himself following the young woman into the Pandorica exhibit.

She looked to be in her late teens, maybe early twenties. Accompanied by an older man, she seemed to care for him greatly. Rory tried to get closer to hear what they were talking about.

"I just don't understand, Gramps, what's so important about this box?" the girl demanded.

"It's alien! Now isn't that exciting?" The old man smiled, a look of amazement plastered across his face.

"But it's just. A box!" the girl exclaimed, pointing to the Pandorica as if her grandfather would finally realize that it was just a hunk of metal in front of him.

"It's not _just_ a box, you know," Rory interceded before he could help himself. Spending so much time with the thing made him a little overprotective, even if it was the horrible prison keeping Amy captive. It was also the thing keeping Amy alive.

"Oh? And what else is in it, then, nosey-man?" the girl asked, wheeling to face him.

"Inside is the most important thing in the universe," he replied nonchalantly.

"What's inside it then?" the girl questioned.

"The most important thing in the universe," Rory reiterated.

"How do you know it's the most important thing in the universe if you don't even know what's inside it?" the girl asked again, seeming to take pride in her ability to shoot down Rory's statements.

"Because I've seen it open," he answered, still very casual.

"Right. And I've seen the fires of Pompeii," the girl caustically remarked.

"I'm serious."

"You're bonkers."

The grandfather looked extremely uncomfortable throughout the whole ordeal, although to be honest Rory was quite enjoying it. It was nice to speak to another human being, and the girl's ability to question things was rather refreshing.

"C'mon Donna, let's go," the grandfather urged, tugging at her sleeve.

"It was nice meeting you Donna," Rory remarked, giving her a smile.

"Later loser."


	6. February 14th

**Author's Note: Hey! Sorry for the delay, finals week (we're in trimesters)**

**I'm really honored by how much you guys liked the last chapter, Donna's my favorite companion so I felt the need to give her a little nod. Plus I mean, Rory and Donna. How much better does it get?**

**This chapter is in honor of Valentine's Day, AKA Single's Awareness day, AKA the most angsty day of Rory's year.**

**Hope you enjoy ;) Comments/Reviews are always welcome. (I don't own Doctor Who ****)**

**Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!**

Rory hated Valentine's Day.

It wasn't so bad at the beginning. The holiday wasn't a hugely celebrated thing at first, or at least if it was Rory was too secluded to notice. In those earlier years, he could actually cope with the holiday. He could imagine Amy was spending it with him.

Each year he would come up with a new romantic adventure for them to go on and write it down. Something exciting for Amy to do. She always loved adventures. In addition to this, he would write a poem, going through hundreds of drafts until the wording was just right. Roses would be pruned through the summer and pressed on to paper over the course of the winter so they would be preserved. And every year on February 14th, he would present his creations to the Pandorica, offerings to a shrine. He would read Amy his poem and describe their adventure for the year. Dining in Paris (specifically, on the very top of the Eiffel Tower). Scuba diving in the Americas. Visiting beaches where the sand ran smoothly through your fingers and the waves cooled you from the beating sun, playfully ebbing back and forth. Meeting a historic figure.

But as the years progressed and the holiday became commercialized, Rory found it more and more difficult to stay sane. Couples would come to the museums, holding hands and stealing an occasional kiss, always leaning on each other for support. They could feel each other, feel each other's presence, feel the heat emanating off of their skin. Feel each other's love.

What did Rory have? Plastic skin and a cold box to lean on. He yearned to feel Amy again, to see her move, breath. He needed to see her fiery red hair again, her pale skin he had made fun of so many times. In return for these desires, he got an impenetrable prison. There were no visiting hours for this prison's captive.

Yet still he wrote his poems and told his stories of adventure. Sometimes he would even buy fresh flowers. The ritual was repeated in the hopes that maybe, just maybe, if his sacrifices were splendid enough his enemy would give him a glimpse of his soul mate. Just one.

But it just stayed a box.


	7. What's in a Name?

*****UPDATE*****

**NOW THERE'S A SEQUEL TO 2000! Check out "Together, or Not at All" by odieotie**

**Author's Note: Hey sorry it took so long, I had finals this week so my brain didn't really get a chance to think.**

**Anyway, here is the latest installment of Rory angst.**

**I don't own Doctor Who**

**Feel free to leave comments or reviews **

**Peace, Love, ALLONS-Y!**

"Amy?" Rory's call to the box was more strangled than it was on most nights. His day at the museum had been more difficult than usual. A little girl had decided to have a birthday party at the museum, and the whole day he watched ten or fifteen little heads bob around, exploring exhibits with innocent curiosity ignited in their eyes.

The most difficult part had been the birthday girl. Hair as fiery as Amy's, she glowed with adventure. She would be one to travel the stars or explore caves when she grew up.

Wherever the little girl went, a young scrawny boy would follow her like a lost puppy. Rory immediately identified with the child. _Don't worry_, he wanted to whisper to the little boy. _I know that being friend-zoned is awful, but one day she'll realize you're there for her. And not gay. _Rory quickly amended the last sentence to, _and interested in her_.

But he just stood in the background, watching the avid fascination of the kids. They had nothing to worry about. His plastic heart had ached the whole day.

"Amy," he whispered again, leaning against her prison. A single silent tear fell from his cheek and onto the ground.

"Amy, we're going to have kids, right?" he asked, absentmindedly tracing his fingers along the intricate design of the Pandorica, a well memorized path.

"I just keep remembering-with the Dream Lord- knowing that I was going to be a dad, that we were going to be parents," Rory trailed off, giving himself a moment to breathe. He hated choking up in front of the box. "I was the happiest person in the universe in that dream," he finished, wiping his snot off his face in a not-so-graceful swipe of his sleeve. He stood there in the silence, letting his swarming thoughts settle.

"I was thinking Melody," he said all of a sudden. "If we have a girl, we should name her Melody. After Mels. We sure were a trio. And Brian if it's a boy. For Dad. What do you think?" he asked, looking at the cold prison.

But she wouldn't answer. She couldn't even hear him in the first place. So instead he just gently placed his head against the Pandorica again.

"The girl today, at the birthday party. Her name was Amelia Williams. Not related to you in any way. But still…Amelia Williams. What are the chances of that, my Amelia Pond?"


End file.
